His very first Christmas Card
by sonea91
Summary: Christmas in Fourth Year has Draco receiving his very first Christmas Card. – "And even though it reminded him of all the reasons why he was supposed to loathe her, Draco found that doing so was harder when he had thought." Sweet little one-shot with an


Summary:

Christmas in Fourth Year has Draco receiving his very first Christmas Card. – "And even though it reminded him of all the reasons why he was supposed to loathe her, Draco found that doing so was harder when he had thought." Sweet little one-shot with an alternate Yule Ball ending and Christmas surprises.

* * *

It was early Christmas Morning when Draco woke up, unable to identify what had woken him at first. Then he detected the small figure that was glancing into his room.

"Go away", he told Berna, their houseelf.

"But Sir", Berna said, "I was told by Madam to wake you up, Sir. She was very insistent upon in, saying that I was to tell you that you should get up this very minute, Sir, because Master is already up, Sir."

Draco groaned. Great! He absolutely hated Christmas, no, that was not the right word, loathed it was more like it. The reason was not that he didn't get what he wanted, no, his mother saw to that. But what difference does Christmas really make, when you only get the things you demanded, which you would have gotten anyway, whether it was Christmas or not.

Well, truth be told, his mother spoiled him senseless, no matter what day it was. So Draco didn't really like the day, seeing that it was nothing special, expect it was - for everyone else but him that is.

Christmas had not always been that bad, though. He remembered that he had loved them as a child. But back then, his father had still pretended to care about him or and Draco himself had still been young enough to believe it. Nowadays, his father didn't even bother to pretend.

There had been one Christmas though, that had been different, and to Draco, it had made all the difference in the world. It was the year before he started Hogwarts and that year, after he had as usual opened all his mother had gotten him – back then he had still bothered to pretend to be grateful - his mother had suddenly taken out another present from underneath the tree, one which he hadn't seen before. And even before his mother had said it, the plain wrapping had given away that it was not from her, but from his father. It was the first time ever that Lucius had bothered to get him anything, and the last time, too.

It was ordinary enough, it had been a book about Pureblood Supremacy, "Why we are superior: A guide to cleansing Pureblood Society" by Paul McHue.

He practically knew that book by heart, he had read it time and again, and even though it was tattered and yellowed by now, so different to the other books that he liked to show off with, he always kept it close. Right now it was in the bottom drawer of his bedside table, hidden under a false bottom.

Draco groaned again and threw his pillow at the tedious elf, willing it to go away. But he knew it was no use, even though Berta left for the moment, he knew she would be back if he was not downstairs in five minutes, so with one last sigh he turned and swingingly got out of bed.

That was when he saw it, the little envelope lying on top of his bedside table. And even though he had never seen her writing before, he just knew that it was from her. The writing fitted her, very neat and yet there was a certain edge to it. He slowly opened the envelope, just to find a Christmas Card lying within.

He had to think back to the very first day when he had first seen a Christmas Card.

"Aren't they pretty", his mother had asked his father, having brought some home from shopping. "With all the animated snow, and glitter and..."

His father, however, had not been pleased. He had roared that that was 'prosposperous? muggle merchandise', and that 'some of those detestful? Blood traitors like Weasley' must have introduced them to the Wizarding market. Draco had fled the scene before he could get involved in the whole fight; it would have ended the same way as usual, anyway, with him taking his father's side and getting shouted at all the same.

As far as he knew, his father had simply tossed the cards into the fire. No word had been spoken about them ever since.

The card in his hand, however, looked different to the ones his mother had purchased back then. No, this was clearly a muggle card.

He knew he should copy his father's actions from back then, tore it into pieces and toss it into the nearest fireplaces, but curiosity won over and he slowly opened it.

_It was pure chance that had Draco running into Hermione that fateful evening. She was sitting on a staircase, with her back turned to him. He briefly wondered what she was doing there all by herself, but then again, he didn't really care. _

"_Get out of my way", he shouted at her and was about to brush past her, when she turned. Her face was tear-stained and she looked like a complete mess. _

_He had witnessed the trio's little scene in the hall earlier, Weasley once again proving to the whole while world how dumb he was, but he wouldn't have guessed that she'd be that upset about it. Shouldn't she – being the Weasel's best friend and all – know him well enough to expect nothing better of him? 'Fraternizing with the enemy', oh come on, as if 'the enemy' would want to fraternize with Granger._

"_That jerk's not worth it", Draco told her, while passing._

"_What?" Granger sounded absolutely dumbfounded, and here he thought nothing could surprise that insufferable know-it-all. _

"_I said", Draco stressed, slowing somewhat down "he's not worth it, so don't spoil your precious little tears crying over him." The last part was said in his typical sarcastic way._

_Draco had never meant to stop, but when she broke out into hysterical laughter, she reminded him so much of his mother. His mother – he never understood why she had ended up with his father. There seemed to be no love there and yet, contrary to popular belief, his parents' marriage had not been arranged. In fact, both his mother and his father had been promised to someone else._

_So, as unlikely as it seemed, there must have been something akin to love there at some stage, but he supposed that all of that was gone. He had never seen his father behave anything but cruel and condescending towards his mother. _

_Draco realized that he was still standing next to a hysterical Granger. _

"_What's so funny?", he asked irritated._

"_I'm sorry", Granger said, somewhat sobering. "It's just: YOU – of all people – telling me that Ron behaved like a jerk, when you have never acted anything but towards me."_

"_That's different", he snarled._

_"How so?", she asked. Why did she just have to question everything?_

"_In that I don't treat you the way I do, because of who you are, but because of what you are. Because I simply treat you the same way like anybody else of your background. Because you're not in love with me."_

_The last one had been a wild guess, but the way Granger both paled and blushed at the same time – something he had thought impossible before – revealed to him that there was more truth to the statement when he had thought. _

_He had half a mind of just leaving that pathetic 'thing' there, but the other mind caused him to say: "As I said before, that jerk's not worth it, and I would have believed you to be smart enough to figure that out on your own."_

_He could clearly see the conflicting emotions in her face now, one part of her wanting her to tell him off, protecting Ron, and the other half somewhat agreeing with him. Draco smirked._

"_Well, thank you, I suppose", she said, standing up. She looked somewhat calmer now. Good. Wait! He didn't care, remember?_

"_Whatever for? Being civil to you? My name's not Abraxas, after all."_

"_What?", Granger sounded absolutely puzzled. _

"_Are you to tell me you never heard of my great-grandfather Abraxas Malfoy? Should have figured you had no clue about pureblood ancestry," he snorted condescendingly and took his leave._

_And even though he hadn't thought much of the incident back then, even though he tried his best to forget all about, their relationship had somewhat changed. The times he picked on her had become considerably fewer, and when neither the Weasel nor Potter where around, he had stopped altogether. _

_In return, every once in a while she would smile at him. And even though Draco consistently told himself that he didn't care, he couldn't help it but be happy that there was someone else beside his mother who would smile at him every once in a while without any ulterior motive._

There was a sharp knock at his door.

"Draco", his mother called. "Would you please hurry up, your father's waiting."

That was so like his mother, she would never shout at him, even if she was angry at him.

"I'll be right there", he said, his heart pounding, hiding the card behind his back, even though he knew that his mother wouldn't enter his room, if he didn't tell her to.

He heard her going back downstairs and ever so slowly, Draco took out the card again and opened it. There were only 10 words in the card. "Merry Christmas, Malfoy." And further down the page. "Thank you for being civil to me."

And even though the card reminded him of all the reasons why he was supposed to loathe her, Draco found that doing so was harder when he had thought.

And then another thought occurred to him. She had given him something, and he didn't have any present for her in return. That just wouldn't do, his pride wouldn't allow it. But fortunately, just the right thing came to his mind. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to send it until later.

* * *

Hermione was surprised when an owl tapped at her window at Christmas afternoon. She was lying in her bed, reading through 'Hogwarts – a History' once again. She was even more surprised when she realized that the owl was carrying a small package. Hermione had already opened all the presents she had gotten in the morning with her parents, and was wondering who was sending her something now. She couldn't think of anybody who'd forgotten her.

The first thing that caught her eye when she opened the window to let the bird in was what an elegant-looking owl it was. Crookshanks, who had been curled up in the bed next to her and whom she had disturbed from his slumber by getting up, was eyeing the newcomer warily.

She petted the owl in thanks and offered it some of the owl treats she always kept for Hedwig. The owl ate one of them, before she took of back out of the window.

Hermione looked at the package in her hand curiously. There was her family name on it – Granger – in a rather elegant script. However, the writing also looked somewhat arrogant. Weird. She had never thought one could project arrogance through the writing as such, but in front of her was the very proof that it was possible. She slowly opened the plainly wrapped package, now aware of who had sent it to her, and quite curious as to what it was that he had sent.

_Hermione was sitting on the stairs, devastated. How could Ron say something as horrible as that? Fraternizing with the enemy? Shouldn't he know her well enough and trust her not to do anything of the kind? She had had such a great evening, why did the prat have to ruin everything?_

_She nearly missed Malfoy's "get out of my way", and belatedly looked up. _

_Hermione had never thought that she could have a half-way decent conversation with the self-righteous Malfoy, but yet that was what had ensued. Not only that, but he had actually managed to make her feel better – something which neither of her two best friends had even tried to do._

_Things had changed after that, not drastically but still significantly. She doubted, though, that either Harry or Ron had noticed. Malfoy had refrained from insulting her all the time, and in turn, she had found herself wondering whether there wasn't more to him when she had thought. Maybe he was more than the prejudiced pureblood supremacist she had always thought him to be._

_She had also been curious about his ancestor, Abraxas, the one he had mentioned in their short conversation. Since she wasn't talking to Ron, she had asked Ginny whether she had ever heard of the phrase 'I'm not Abraxas'._

"_Oh sure", the younger girl had said. "Fred and George used to say that all the time. Whenever Mum would give out to them for not helping her more or for not respecting her enough or anything of the kind, they would say something like "but Mum, you know, we're nothing like Abraxas". She changed to saying "well, since you're nothing like Abraxas, you sure wouldn't mind helping me", after a while, and they changed to "but you're wrong, we're just like him." _

"_But – what does it actually mean?", Hermione had asked. _

"_Apparently, that Abraxas was a real prick with everything that concerned women. He thought that they weren't equal to men, and that they were only there to please him and to satisfy his needs. He treated them like some people treat their houseelves."_

"_So what did he do?", inquired Hermione._

_"What do you mean? For a living? I have no bloody idea", said Ginny. _

"_But it must have been something rather important, else people wouldn't even have noticed his behavior towards women", said Hermione. Ginny just shrugged._

_Hermione had been prone to find out more about that Abraxas Malfoy, but – with no clue where to start - she hadn't found anything in the library and she didn't want to tell anyone that she was looking up Malfoy's ancestor._

Hermione opened the package. Therein lay a book – "The achievements and merits of Abraxas Malfoy" by George Lestrange.

She had heard of the author before, he had been quite a famous biographer, though his biographies were infamous for being biased; he had been a strong defender of pureblood beliefs himself.

Hermione settled back down on her bed and started reading. Two hours later, she had finished the book and turned the last page. There was a little note attached to it: "I couldn't have you remain ignorant of such a great man like my ancestor." And then, in small, nearly unreadable letters which looked like the writer had been hesitant to put them down: "Merry Christmas to you, too."

Hermione sat on her bed for another while thoughtful. Not only had she found out that Malfoy's great grand-father had indeed been a genius – responsible for several innovations in his time, but he had also been one of the greatest pureblood supremacist of his time.

She wondered how it must be to grow up with a heritage like that. Hadn't she treated Malfoy unfair as well? He had treated her the way he did because of her parentage, and – partly – she had done the same. Of course, there had also been his self-righteous demeanour. Maybe, just maybe she had judged him wrongly; maybe he was capable of changing.

And maybe one day, his sentence, "I'm not Abraxas", could come to mean more when Malfoy had originally thought of. Until then, she would simply continue to smile at him every once in a while and maybe these smiles could become the foundation of something more. Maybe – some day.

* * *

All usual disclaimer apply, i.e. I own nothing and gain nothing but fun out of it.

Reviews are always more than welcome!


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